


Mission: Irritation

by klutzy34



Category: Hawaii Five-0 (2010)
Genre: 6x25, Episode Tag, Friendship, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-24
Updated: 2016-05-24
Packaged: 2018-06-10 11:39:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,478
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6954991
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/klutzy34/pseuds/klutzy34
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Grant Alten gets what he wants and refuses to budge for others. That's not going to change for a tenacious Navy SEAL who wants him to switch rooms.</p>
<p>So he thinks.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Mission: Irritation

**Author's Note:**

> So this was posted once before and wound up deleted for reasons that make absolutely no sense now (sorry!), and after that, I played a little bit of hell with myself to repost again, so here it is, another shot because 6x25 friendship lightness.

Grant Alten sat in his hospital bed, chin tilted up as he glared down at a crossword puzzle through a pair of bifocals, ignoring the furious glare of one Lieutenant Commander McGarrett in the next bed over, several shades pale away from looking healthy and currently restrained by several IVs and oxygen shoved up his nostrils. He calmly scribbled letters down in several boxes, ‘hmmm’d quietly to himself, then scribbled a few more.

“I suggest you conserve your energy, boy, and focus on healing instead,” the elderly man stated with an air of authority that just made Steve want to hoist his weak body out of the bed and tip over the neighboring one, just to prove a point. “I spent sixty years in Hollywood and never once moved for anyone. I’m not about to start for you.” 

Steve continued to glare at him, one arm draped listlessly over his aching abdomen. Since Chin’s early morning check in and update, he’d thought of nothing but the fact that a few rooms down the hall, Danny continued to fight some nasty surgery side effects, his head stuck in a bin as he heaved up what was left of his stomach contents. It was bad enough that he’d apparently busted up a few ribs in the crash landing, not to mention the surgery leading to the spanking new liver currently residing within Steve, but now he was stuck vomiting hard enough to pull at everything trying to heal and not even sleep was giving him any relief, not when nightmares left him calling out for people who weren’t even there.

Alten’s response, on asking him to switch rooms with Danny, had been ‘no’ without even considering the situation and then he’d ignored any attempt Steve made to bargain with him. The nurse shot Steve an apologetic look and told him that they couldn’t do much without Alten’s agreement, which meant Steve was stuck with him - and both of them were in there for a long period of time. 

Closing his eyes, Steve tilted his head away, snuggling into the bed. _You have no idea who you are messing with, pal. That bed is going to have a Danno in it, one way or another._

\-------------

The styrofoam cup came with a straw still in its wrapper. Finally managing to sit up for the first time in days, Steve stared at the wrapper, then his gaze shifted sideways to Alten, currently watching some godawful political commentary show on Fox News. Picking up the wrapper, he began to quietly shred and then roll the pieces between his fingers, setting them along the edge of the tray. 

The first one bounced off the rounded edge of Alten’s ear and he swatted at it like an annoying bug, his attention not even drawn towards Steve. Steve’s lip curled up in a disgusted sneer as they talked about a meglomaniac candidate on the TV, trying to imagine the steady commentary stream he would be listening to if Danny was in the other bed.

Then again, if Danny was in the other bed, neither one would be going anywhere near the channel.

The second ball bounced off Alten’s nose and Steve congratulated himself on an excellent shot, hand sliding along the countertop to flick the third. This time, it bounced off the rim of his glasses and Alten slowly turned his head to stare at Steve. “Knock it off, you little prick,” he demanded in a soft growl, finger hovering over the volume button threateningly. 

Steve smiled smugly and flicked the fourth, which caught him right between the eyes.

Alten knocked up the volume and Steve’s ears were tortured by the worst pile of steaming bullshit he’d heard since the night Freddie tried to lie his way out of an incident at a bar involving a goose and a foghorn. (Which Steve was in no way part of, being a well behaved soldier.) 

Scowling, Steve took aim and this time, the last ball hit Alten’s forehead and rolled down beneath the lens of his glasses. Alten’s scowl deepened, his finger sliding over to hit another button on the controller. 

When the nurse appeared, Alten pointed at Steve. “I just caught him trying to remove his IVs,” he stated, eyes growing wide and just like that, he became a feeble old man. Why wouldn’t someone believe him? Steve’s jaw dropped open as the nurse turned her gaze his way. 

“Commander McGarrett…”

\----------

If Alten hadn’t already prevented him from getting his partner for a roommate, Steve would have hated him for the fact that _he got him restrained_ alone. The soft restraints gave him minimal movement and he stared up at the ceiling, glaring at the patterns as if they would reveal to him a secret weapon to use against his current roommate. 

He heard the soft patter of shoes as a nurse made her entrance, going to take vitals from the machine Alten was currently tethered to. While he, for the most part, ignored the conversation, he did catch the end where Alten stated he’d wanted to see the movie playing on the TV for a while and had thankfully remained unspoiled until he could. Steve’s gaze dropped down, then over, then up to the TV, eyebrow rising. He laid there, letting the nurse check him over, take his vitals, and then make her exit. He allowed silence to fall before he cleared his throat, trying to dislodge what settled there after a while of disuse before he spoke. 

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice still rough. He leaned over slightly, then regretted it as fire spread up his side. Movement. Movement not good. Even if he was trained to endure torture, it didn’t mean he should willingly visit it on himself. “You know how the kid says he can see dead people?” he asked, brow furrowing in feigned confusion. 

“What of it?” Alten muttered, clearly not wanting to pay attention to Steve. He couldn’t help the evil smirk that slid across his lips. 

“Bruce Willis is dead, man. Dead as a doornail, shot dead in the beginning.” 

Thankfully, Alten was a terrible shot with a bedpan or Steve would have been bruised on top of bruising.

\---------

Unfortunately, he had to give Alten some credit. When the stubborn old man dug his heels in and refused to budge, it was like sidling up to an elephant’s ass and trying to push it along. Steve was making no headway into convincing him to move. After his temper tantrum in the aftermath of the premature _Sixth Sense_ reveal, Alten switched over to the Home Shopping Network and turned it up so loudly that Steve swore the voice of his inner pitter patter was now that of the announcer and not his own. 

His shoulders slumped in exhaustion and he glanced over at the older man, trying to screw up a little more humility. His desperation was growing. “Look, man, I’m sorry, okay? I’m just...it’s been a lousy several days for me and that guy down the hall? He’s more than just my partner, he’s my best friend. It’s funny, he was like a brother before and now, well, he’s pretty much my blood brother. Gave me part of his liver right out of his body and he’s having a rough time with the side effects, you know? I’d just feel better if he was here and I could keep an eye on him.”

Alten silently turned the volume down a few notches, then shifted to look at Steve. “And what are you gonna do, huh? Kid, you can’t even get up out of the bed to piss, so they stuck a bag to you. You can’t do shit, so I’m not going anywhere. Not for you, not for anyone, so shut up,” he stated calmly. 

Steve’s brow furrowed and his fists balled up. “What happened to you that made you such an asshole, huh? Is that pure Hollywood or did someone knock you so far down the ladder that you just hold a grudge against humanity? I’m asking for a little decency here, not for you to cross a line on your morals,” he ground out, “and really, I’m too damn tired to keep fighting you on that.” 

The old man’s head tilted back and he laughed sharply. “Not everyone has a bad story. I know what I want and I know what I don’t want. I don’t want to be in a game of musical hospital beds, so I’m not moving and apparently, your buddy’s roommate isn’t either, so you better figure out how to get along with me or look forward to whatever horrors I can find on TV next.” 

That was it. That was _it_. Steve snarled quietly. “Hey Alten? I’m the leader of the elite government task force on this island, with very good, very smart people at my command. So, if you don’t want the past dredged up, maybe your location dropped to every ex-wife and mistress you’ve ever had so they can hunt you down and get what they deserve from you? I’d do what I ask and I would do it fast.” 

He thought he was extremely convincing given he was lightly tied to a bed in a hospital gown and as weak as a kitten; Alten only threw back his head and laughed. 

\----------

Charlie Edwards was a kid, so of course he knew a few things about getting adults to do his bidding. Steve McGarrett was a fast learner and not afraid to sink to immature depths when it came to his people and their wellbeing. He waited until Alten bedded down for the night, waited until his breathing became soft and steady, then drew in a deep breath.

“ _I know a song that gets on everybody’s neeeeeerrrrrveeeeees…_ ”

\-------

Danny stared at Steve in disbelief as the nurses wheeled his bed in and locked the wheels in place after settling it in the spot once occupied by the bed of one Grant Alten. It was only after the nurses left that he shook his head. “Please tell me that you did not literally annoy someone into doing your bidding by singing that terrible song my son is fond of,” he stated softly. “You. You, the decorated Navy SEAL, singing that-” He held up a finger and Steve cringed at the sound of the strained retching as Danny bent over the pink plastic bin that had been tightly hugged to his chest. 

“Babe, he refused to do the right thing just because he could and I couldn’t do anything with your roommate from here. Desperate times call for desperate measures,” Steve replied, not without some small measure of concern as he watched Danny slowly sit back up, eyes closed and a thin strand of spittle hanging off his lip. 

“Next interrogation, we really need to try that out,” Danny muttered. “We might get somewhere faster.” His cheeks puffed out as he herked again, but this one didn’t pan out and he flopped back against his pillows. “I still can’t believe that you…”

“For you,” Steve interjected. “If you’re going to suffer for something you did for me, you’re going to suffer here in this room. We’re both going to suffer as we get better.”

“We’re going to make each other miserable,” Danny added, then laughed weakly. “God, if you start singing that song, I’m going to take my half of liver back.”

Steve joined him in laughter, just basking in how good it felt to have Danny back in the next bed where he could keep an eye on him. When the nightmares closed in that night, he would be there, able to talk him down to a deep sleep again. A reassuring voice in the darkness when no visible way seemed to be around. “You’re going to have to fight me for it and you couldn’t win that fight on a good day.”

Danny shook a finger at him. “I will have you know that I could kick your ass. I’m scrappy and - “ Another round of vomiting interrupted. 

“You’re going to stink up the room at this rate, Danno.” 

“Shut up. Just shut up. Everything hurts and my body refuses to settle until my stomach is resting in this bin and I will not have you complain about the smells - “

“You’re right, I’ve already gone nose deaf from all the cologne you use.”

“Yeah? Well, I’ve been stuck in the same vehicle with you after Taco Tuesdays and believe me, with all the beans you put on those things, that is no picnic. You, my smelly friend, are a noxious fume with an ass that should be classified as a weapon of mass destruction and not even my liver is going to help that.” 

Steve’s mouth dropped open. “Says the asshole who thinks burping is a musical talent. You think those don’t smell after you’ve been downing puka dogs like they’re going out of style?”

Danny held up a hand, his eyes going. “Okay, we need to stop talking about food right now. Right now before I - down, buddy, down,” he muttered, pressing a hand against his stomach. “I’m not going to survive this. Everything hurts and I don’t see it getting better ever. I’m going to be physically miserable for the rest of my life.” 

While there were plenty of openings there, Steve could only nod slowly in agreement. “It certainly feels that way.” He fell silent, then turned his head to look at Danny, unsteadily sitting up and holding the bin like it was a lifesaver, ready to catch anything that came up. “Hey? Danny? I love you, buddy. Thanks for being there.” 

Danny opened his eyes and gave Steve an appraising look. “You say that like it’s an option. To the end of the line, babe, you and me. You’re not getting out of this life until you’re old and gray. Just...don’t do that to me again. Ever.” 

“I don’t know if it’s…”

“ _Ever._ ” Danny glared at him. “Promise me.” 

Silently, Steve regarded him. Then he nodded. “I promise.”

Danny sighed and leaned forward over the bin again, wincing. “All right. Now that that’s out of the way, I can no longer hate your guts because now mine are mixed in there with yours. If that was your main objective, congratulations. Well played.” While his tone was dry, Steve could see the slight smile on his face.

Steve settled down deeper in bed, closing his eyes, worn out from just that little bit of conversation. “Yeah, yeah. You can thank me for getting you moved later, Danno. Just rest easy for now. I’ll see you when I wake for dinner, a nice hot meal of hospital grade food, terrible cafeteria meatloaf and lukewarm mashed pota-” He heard a wretch off to his left and cringed.

“ _Damn it, Steven!_ ”


End file.
